Sunset
by Jenny-Beth
Summary: They are apart but they have not forgotten.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of it. I'm sure hundreds of others have thought of the plot before me, too.

**Author's Note:** I was reading and a plot that has hit me before hit me again. I was left unable to continue my reading until I had at least begun it.

This is simply a little thing. There are two parts: one from her perspective and one from his. There is not a happy ending. If you want a happy ending, perhaps reading something else will work better for you.

She stared out the window, watching the water lap at the shored of the lake. The sinking sun struck a beautiful cast of blues, reds, pinks, and oranges across the sky. She sighed, wishing that she could feel the beauty of the sunset, but it had not affected her for years. Ever since he had left.

She was Rowena and she was standing in a vacant hallway at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As she watched the sun sin beneath the horizon, she allowed herself the bittersweet memories of the time when he had been there.

The time, when they were mere children, when he had brought her a somewhat wilted rose and told her his name. They had played together often as children.

As they had gotten older, they had been permitted to spend less and less time together. Their parents did not approve of them spending so much time with a member of the opposite gender. Her parents had been particularly appalled. His social status was so much lower than theirs. He was merely the son of a servant, doomed to be so himself.

She had rebelled. At any chance, she would run off to watch him do his chores about the manor his father worked at. He was often working with the horses. They reminded her, even then, of him; strong, quiet, and handsome.

Years went by and her parents wished for her to marry some well off gentleman with a long bloodline of magic. He had all the intelligence and grace of an ox. He was nothing like her servant boy. He was disgusting.

So she had sent an owl to a friend, who had been more than happy to start a school for magic. She had also managed to escape in order to see him. He was fully capable of magic. She had been teaching him for years. He had always wanted more than a servant's life. The two of them had severed all ties with their families and had headed for the north of Scotland.

He had sent a letter to friend. His friend had also come and the four of them had worked quickly on their school. They were happy.

With time, Rowena had found herself falling in love with the boy whom she had saved from a servant's life. It seemed he felt the same, for years later they were married.

All had been wonderful within the school until she had had their first child. Contrary to what others said, he was gone because he was afraid that he would be a terrible father; he would be like his own father had been. He had been domineered and abused as a child and wished better than that for his own child.

She sighed again as she came out of her reverie. Her friend found her in the hallway and knew without being told what her friend was thinking. After all, sunset had been their time. They had always gone for walks and the like at sunset. Rowena staring out the window at sunset meant that she was thinking of him.

It was saddening, really. She had been slowly getting better at falling into her memories less. She was struggling to live in the here and now so that her – their – daughter would not feel that she was an accident, unwanted by her parents.

Rowena smiled at her friend and then headed for her quarters. There she found young Helena, her nose buried in a book. She was so like both of her parents. She looked like her father but she was like her mother in personality.

Helena looked up at her mother and smiled, greeting her warmly. She had never felt that her mother did not love her. She was aware, however, that her father had run off. She did not know why. When she had been younger, she had felt that her father did not love her. Now she wondered if he had not loved her mother.

She was not blind. She knew that her mother still loved her father. She knew that her mother had left everything that she knew because she was so fond of him.

Apparently, fondness had not been enough and he was gone.

She looked at her mother, looking out the window at the sky, still painted various colours even though the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon.

Rowena whispered one word - a name - that Helena knew so well.

"Salazar."


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of it. I'm sure hundreds of others have thought of the plot before me, too.

**Author's Note:** Here's part two of this little thing. Again, this does NOT have a happy ending.

He was looking out the window of his London home. The sun was setting and, while he was cognizant that it would be far more beautiful if he were in the country, he thought it beautiful still.

Sunset had always been his time. From the time he could walk, he adored the sunset. His father had told him once that his mother had loved the sunset. Although the older man had been incredibly drunk at the time, it had made Salazar adore that time of day when the sun dipped behind the horizon and painted the sky with all of the colours he loved.

He had taught her to love the sunset. He remembered the first time he had told her that he loved it. They had been small children with no idea of what the future would hold for them.

He had given her a rose. He had been embarrassed that by the time it was in her hand, it had wilted slightly. He nearly didn't give it to her but she didn't seem to mind. He reflected that perhaps he had fallen for her then. He had told her, after learning her name and telling her his, of his love of sunsets. It would be years before he told her why.

She had been beautiful even then. She had long dark hair that she would let flow down her back because she did not like the feel of it all tied back by the maids. Oh how he had envied her her maids. He was so used to being the son of a servant with chores of his own that it seemed to him that she must be terribly lucky to have her own maids and servants.

He had told her that once, when they were teenagers. She had smiled sadly and told him that she envied him, for he did not have someone watching him all of the time. That was when he had learned of the trouble she could be in if she were discovered with him. He had been amazed at what her life could be like.

When she had come to him in tears, saying that she was being forced to marry some wizard with money and a long line of wizards in his family tree, his urge to protect her and his rage at her father had been overwhelming. That was when he decided that perhaps he should not see her again. His emotions were running away with him.

That had not worked out as well as he had expected. Not two weeks later she had come to him, begging him to take her away. She wanted to open a school for children with magic. The idea of opening a school, of not being a servant for his whole life, had overwhelmed him and he had agreed.

He had written to a friend, as had she. Soon the four of them met up in northern Scotland and had constructed a castle. It was beautiful. There was a lake that was the deepest blue with grey hills sprawled across the background. The first sunset he had spent there had felt all the more special because she had been there with him. They did not speak, but watched the colours spread across the sky, painting the clouds and the lake in their likeness.

He had fallen in love that evening, with the clouds painted gold and pink and orange. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun, her eyes were not so quick to sparkle with mischief, and she was much more serene and wise, but she was still his Rowena.

Apparently she had felt the same. Their courtship had been filled with many sunset walks around the lake. He had thought that nothing could come between them. Believing this, he had asked her to marry him.

Their wedding had been perfect. They had timed it to be at sunset and their guests had commented on the beauty of that sunset. It seemed that there had never been another like it and there never would be again. He and his wife had simply smiled.

She had given birth to his child alone in the school hospital wing. He had been packing his bags, afraid that he would be as uncaring as his father had been; that their marriage would fall apart like his parents' had until she died of depression. He was so afraid that he would do or say something wrong and that would be the end. He was afraid of turning Rowena into a shadow of herself.

Wisdom, it seemed, came with age. He knew now that he had hurt her more by running. However, he was convinced that she would not want him back. It had been ten years and his child did not know him. They may not even know his name. He could only pray that she had told their child that he had loved her very much and that their child was not to blame for his being absent from their lives.

It was his own fault.

"Rowena."


End file.
